


Boys, Bonds, and Bullets

by crushing83



Series: Teen Wolf in Another Reality [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Damaged Derek, Demisexual Stiles Stilinski, Derek trying to teach Stiles how to be a werewolf, Discussion of events before the fire, Everybody tries, Gen, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Multiple Pov, POV Multiple, Protective Derek, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Season 01 AU, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Sneaky Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Gets Bitten Instead of Scott McCall, Stiles is less combative than Scott, Stiles learning how to be a werewolf, Warning: Kate Argent, ace spectrum Stiles Stilinski, and everything the fanon sometimes implies, asexual spectrum Stiles Stilinski, may become Sterek way down the road, werewolf investigations, werewolf lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 06:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18047750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: Stiles and Derek find themselves on the trail of the unknown alpha; that trail leads them to another danger. With Kate Argent's explosive return to Beacon Hills, Derek is injured and Stiles has to find the one thing that promises a quick and full recovery: a bullet from Kate's private artillery.Pointing, Derek gestured towards a fire escape on the building where Monster Mayhem was running. Stiles nodded; they rushed for the metal bars of the ladder, Derek in the lead and Stiles following behind him.Derek didn't stay in the lead for long, though. When Stiles figured out where Monster Mayhem was going---to the building on the north side of the one they were currently exploring---he darted away from Derek and hurried along a path that would bring him closer to their target.He had no idea what he was doing, except that he washuntingand heneededto keep his prey in sight.The fact that Stiles was clueless was made even more clear when the rifle was fired again and Derek pounced on top of him.





	Boys, Bonds, and Bullets

**Author's Note:**

> The next installment! Even though this didn't flow the way I wanted it to flow, I decided to post it. I thought about setting it aside and reworking it over the weekend, but... I just wanted to move on more. Hopefully you won't hold it against me *fings crossed*

Normally, Derek was able to tune out everything around him. Just as there were times when he could strain to hear or scent something faint or far away, there were also times when he could let everything unimportant fade into a sort of radio static noise. He'd always been that way, for as long as he could remember. He never had to learn how to focus on or ignore certain stimuli, and he couldn't recall a time when his parents had to teach his younger siblings. 

Because of his abilities, as natural as breathing, Derek wasn't sure he was doing right by Stiles. 

Stiles _seemed_ to be handling the change. He caught on to the lessons Derek tried to teach him; he was doing what he could, on his own, to manage his new senses and abilities. It all appeared to be going well. 

But, every now and then, Derek caught Stiles in a rough moment. And that left Derek wondering if Stiles was having rough moments more often than Derek realised. 

From his position in the kitchen, chopping vegetables that would go into a slow cooker stew he was planning to cook the next day (in his attempt to be as least like a burden to his hosts as possible), he could hear Stiles in his bedroom. He'd gone upstairs after John left for work, presumably to do some homework; Derek had tuned out most of the noise as best as he could, focusing on the sights, sounds, and smells of the mushrooms, onions, and peppers as a distraction. 

Everything seemed peaceful. 

But, after twenty or so minutes, Stiles' breathing changed into a loud, ragged rhythm that Derek couldn't ignore. 

It didn't sound like _good_ ragged breathing. It wasn't accompanied by loud music or telltale signs of skin-on-skin, something Derek remembered from awkward experiences in his past. It sounded… distressed. 

Derek put down his paring knife and wiped his hands on a dish towel. Then, he made his way up the stairs and towards Stiles' room. 

Stiles was sitting at his desk, staring at his computer. His eyes were wide; his posture was rigid. He was radiating discomfort with every fibre of his being. 

Carefully and quietly, so he didn't startle Stiles, Derek walked into the bedroom. He didn't know if he should initiate contact---or if it would make things worse---but he had to try something before Stiles' condition worsened. 

"Stiles?" 

He wasn't surprised that Stiles' remained unresponsive. 

Instead of grabbing Stiles and shaking him, Derek clasped the back of his desk chair and pulled the chair around until Stiles was facing him. 

"Stiles? I need you to listen to my voice, okay?" Derek asked, keeping his voice low and soft. "I don't know what's wrong, and I can't help you until you can tell me, so… just listen to me. I'm… I'm, uh, here. You're not alone." 

He kept talking, basically repeating the same things over and over. Stiles' eyes glowed gold a few times, but he never lost more control than that. 

After five or so minutes, Stiles exhaled a long, shuddering breath and bowed his head. 

"It was… I was… and then, I couldn't stop seeing---and then I couldn't stop _everything_ ," Stiles said, mumbling and fumbling over his words. "I could hear everything whirring in my computer and then the water in the pipes and the way the heaters click in the living room when they turn on at night, and then there was everything outside and I caught a whiff of my neighbour's ridiculously floral perfume and---" 

"And you couldn't ignore the irrelevant?" Derek asked. 

Stiles nodded, the movement jerkier than it usually was. 

He looked shaken. Derek's skill at providing comfort had never been particularly strong---even _before_ \---but he knew what he liked when he was upset, and he thought he could provide a small fraction of that, at least. They'd been scent-marking almost since the beginning, the need to claim and belong too strong for two alpha-lacking betas, and providing a little comfort wouldn't be too much of a stretch past their comfort zones. 

So, hesitantly, Derek put one hand on Stiles' shoulder and the other on his knee, and he squeezed gently. 

"It takes practice," Derek said. "And we all have bad days." 

"How do you snap out of it?" Stiles asked. 

Derek thought about the way Laura helped him, the last time he'd scented the faint trace of candle smoke on the air and proceeded to lose his marbles, and he decided that method probably wouldn't work for Stiles. 

He might enjoy the story, though. 

"The last time I got fixated on something---and then everything---Laura punched me," Derek admitted. "She left a bruise that took hours to fade. In her defence, we were in a more populated area at the time, and I wasn't exactly… stoic. She needed to shut me down before I started roaring or howling." 

Stiles' lips curved into a small smile. "I… is it bad of me to admit I'm a little relieved you're not always so calm and collected?" 

"We all have bad days," Derek repeated. 

"When Mom got sick, I started having panic attacks," Stiles confessed. "She'd be fine, and then… she wasn't… she wasn't her. It scared me. And then I felt guilty for being scared. And then…" 

"You couldn't breathe?" Derek asked. 

Stiles nodded. "They don't happen much anymore. Might've had one if you didn't show up." 

Derek fell silent, taking the time to study Stiles for any sign of continued distress. He seemed calmer. His heart rate was returning to normal. His muscles were relaxing under Derek's hands. But, as he pondered over what Stiles had told him, he realised he didn't know exactly what had triggered Stiles' loss of control and focus. 

"What triggered it?" Derek asked. When Stiles frowned more, he added, "It's good to figure out wha---"

"Oh, I know what started it," Stiles muttered. 

"And?"

Stiles twisted, almost completely out of Derek's grasp, as he reached back for his laptop. Derek didn't have to guess as soon as he saw the screen. 

His phone didn't have much use, apart from making sure he was available for Stiles and communicating with the lawyer who managed the Hale estate, but he knew he was looking at a web version of one of those photo-sharing applications that many people had on their devices. He also knew that the page on Stiles' computer belonged to a hunter. 

"This page was how I knew Monster Mayhem was actually a werewolf," Stiles said, quietly. "I've already gone through all the entries, as disturbing as they are, looking for useful information. I don't check it much anymore. Hell, I don't even know how this account hasn't been reported for horrific content. But. I check it once every few days. I'm not following them, but I still check it, and---" 

As he stopped talking, he clicked on a dark thumbnail. The "Welcome to Beacon County" sign appeared on the screen. 

"They posted this almost an hour ago," Stiles whispered. 

Derek bit back the urge to growl. It was bad enough that the Argents had returned almost at the same time as Derek did, but the idea of more hunters was even worse. They could start competing or they could join forces; they could bring more trouble to Beacon Hills if other supernatural beings were hunting them in turn. 

"Any idea who they are?" Derek asked. 

"Someone with a lot of attitude," Stiles replied. "Someone who enjoys their work---a lot. I'm guessing female from the language they use. But, they could be a flamboyantly flirty guy, too, I guess." 

Derek frowned. "What language? Any repeated phrases?" 

"Uh… they seem partial to 'sexy beast,' and words like 'rawr' and 'ferocious,'" Stiles said. 

With that information, Derek's heart seized in his chest. He tried to hold in his whine, but it still escaped from his throat; he tried to stay angry, but fear for his safety and for Stiles' safety overrode his anger. 

_Kate?!_

"Derek?" 

"What is their username?" Derek asked. 

"Silver Hunter Seventy-Eight," Stiles said. 

"Shit," Derek muttered as he eased away from Stiles and sat down on the floor. "You have to… stay away from them. The Argents. She… if it's Kate, you don't understand the lengths she'll---"

"Who is it? Allison's mom?" Stiles asked. 

"No, Victoria might go after you in some sort of stealth attack, but she'll go right for your throat when you see her coming at you," Derek replied. "Kate is Allison's aunt. Her father's sister. She is so much worse… you have no idea." 

Stiles frowned. "I'm sensing some history. Do you want to talk about it?" 

"No." 

"Do I need to know what happened to stay safe?" 

Derek shook his head. "Just stay away from her and you'll be fine." 

"Is she involved in the… fire?" 

"Yes," Derek admitted. 

Stiles sighed. "Okay. I'll drop it for now. But. If you need to talk about whatever happened---with her, I mean---I'm here for you. I'll even try to rein in my smartass remarks." 

Even though Derek was close to losing his grip on his control, he recognised Stiles' offer as genuine and he tried to smile a bit. 

"Thanks," he said. "I'll keep it in mind." 

"I know I'm venturing into Hallmark territory by saying this, but you're not alone," Stiles added. "I'm not much, I know, but I've got your back because you've had mine." 

Derek frowned. "Stiles… you're more than 'not much,' okay?" he said "I… you're becoming a good werewolf. You're gonna get there. You'll figure all this out and find a pack who---" 

"Are you planning on leaving town after all this is over?" Stiles interrupted. 

"No, but---" 

"Then, I'll stick with the pack I've got, thanks," he said, interrupting again. 

"Stiles…"

"Nope," Stiles said with a firm shake of his head. "Unless I make you completely crazy or you turn to a life of actual crime, I am not changing my mind." 

"You don't know everything about me," Derek mumbled. 

"If you are actually some sort of cannibalistic serial killer, then that might be a dealbreaker," Stiles said. He smiled and shrugged. "You feel like pack. My instincts are telling me what we've got is gonna work. Especially once we both figure out our shit." 

Despite his fears, Derek smiled. He understood what Stiles meant, about the feeling of pack. He'd had that with his family, with his sister, and when he thought he'd lost it forever Stiles had crashed into his life and weaseled his way past many of Derek's defences. It wasn't a traditional pack bond, because they had no alpha bringing them together, but it was developing into something that couldn't be ignored or denied. 

"You've got the brains and I've got the muscles?" Derek said. 

Stiles smiled back and nodded. "Pretty much." 

"I'm… I'm gonna go finish chopping the vegetables and stuff for the stew," Derek said. "You want anything?" 

"Nah," Stiles replied. "I'm gonna get a bit more work done and then I'll come keep you company." 

After a nod, Derek pushed himself up from his position on the floor. He had a feeling Stiles' work was going to be trying to find out what he could about Kate, instead of his homework, but Derek doubted he'd find anything tied to his past in searching so he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he ruffled Stiles' short hair in an act that was driven by instinct and left the room. 

It wasn't until he was alone that he allowed himself to consider all the ways his life could worsen with Kate's arrival in Beacon Hills.

#####

By the time Stiles entered the kitchen, Derek seemed to be finished with the vegetables and was focused on cleaning the counter he'd used to work.

His mind was full of the information he'd gleaned from his exhaustive search of the internet, which wasn't much until he'd found Kate's profile page on LinkedIn. He was surprised---and not surprised, at the same time. Obviously, she hadn't had her life as a hunter listed on in her employment history, but there had been a few jobs as a substitute teacher before she accepted an executive position within the family company. Those teaching jobs gave Stiles a few locations to map; those teaching jobs also gave him communities and timeframes to search for suspicious activity. 

He'd found suspicious activity. 

She'd been teaching at Beacon Hills High School, filling in for a teacher on maternity leave, apparently, and she'd left after the majority of the Hale family was murdered. She'd been substituting at several different school districts near and in Fresno, but her job history's date range ended around the same time a small gated community experienced some sort of water contamination that resulted in multiple deaths. 

But, the worst bit of information Stiles had found had been published shortly after Kate's work history had her leaving Meridian, a community outside of Bakersfield. The local paper had an online article about abuse allegations made by the matriarch of a prominent family against the local high school. She'd demanded the school district conduct an investigation; she'd been so public that she'd stirred a response from the rest of the citizens and that the police had gotten involved. But, they'd never found any proof. The investigation had been dropped eventually, no proof found. Then, after Kate's work term ended there, there was a fire at the family's home. Only a couple people died. A month later, one of the teenagers in the family was found dead. The autopsy report was mentioned in the article; the boy's cause of death was suicide by ingestion of aconite. 

_Wolfsbane._

He'd printed everything and tucked it into his box of secrets. He'd also saved it all to his password-protected folder, both screenshots and links in case the sites were ever altered at the source. 

Stiles wasn't sure how it was all related---not completely, not yet---but nothing he'd found had given him a good feeling about Kate Argent and her returning to Beacon Hills. 

He could show it all to Derek, but he remembered the expression on Derek's face, earlier, in his room, and he wasn't sure Derek was ready to have any sort of conversation that involved any of what he'd uncovered. 

So, he put on a smile and waltzed into the kitchen, prepared to lighten the mood and get Derek to relax a little…

…and then Monster Mayhem _roared_. 

The sound vibrated through Stiles. He had a sense of where---some place in the more industrial area of town---the alpha was located, but he didn't understand more than that. It wasn't like before, like an invitation to hunt; instead, it was a war cry that made Stiles shiver. 

Derek dropped the cloth he was using to wipe the counter as he turned to look at Stiles. He stepped closer and put a hand on Stiles' shoulder. 

"You good?" Derek asked. 

"How do you know where they are?" Stiles asked. "How do I know---I mean, I don't know exactly, but---" 

"Instinct. Your brain has a map, right? A general sense of where everything is," Derek explained. "Dad said once it was just your ears hearing the howl and your brain being able to pinpoint direction and distance without you really being consciously aware of it." 

Stiles nodded. "Is Monster Mayhem calling us out?" 

"Sounds like it." 

"Are we gonna go? Or---" 

"I'll go," Derek interrupted. "You stay here." 

"But---" 

"Stiles, if they're after someone, it's better that you're nowhere near the scene of---" 

"And what if the Argents heard that, too, and are out looking?" Stiles interrupted. 

Derek scowled at him. "It's better you stay here, then, too." 

"What if you get hurt?" Stiles asked. 

"I'll heal." 

Stiles frowned. "Or, you won't, and I won't know where you are to help you!" he insisted. 

He knew Derek could probably hear his quickening pulse, but he didn't care. Derek wasn't his dad, but he was a part of Stiles' pack and Stiles did not like the idea of losing him. When Derek nodded---finally---Stiles nearly sagged with relief. 

"You listen to what I tell you," Derek ordered. "If I tell you to hide, you hide. If I tell you to run---" 

"I heft you over my shoulder and run like the wind," Stiles said with a little smile. 

"I'd pay to see that," Derek remarked. 

While Stiles hadn't yet figured out the limits of his strength, he knew he could lift Derek for at least a minute or two. Derek probably knew that, too. The tricky part was in the running---and not falling---but Stiles hoped danger would be motivation enough to keep him on his feet. 

"Well, I have no problem taking your money," Stiles chirped. "We taking your car or mine?" 

"Yours," Derek said. "Drive to the post office, and then we'll go on foot the rest of the way." 

Stiles nodded. It was a good idea, leaving the car in the shelter of a relatively safe building, where no one would be likely to venture after closing, instead of driving through the industrial area of town and risking one of the deputies moonlighting as overnight security recognising Stiles' main mode of transportation. 

It didn't take them long to get moving in the direction of the rogue alpha's howl. After the five minutes of driving, it only took them two minutes to find the _mad-angry-heat-hot-burrrning_ scent of Monster Mayhem. They watched, side by side and cloaked in an alley's shadows, as the alpha made a pass at a darkened sports utility vehicle, as the driver parked and started firing their weapon, as the alpha bolted… 

…as the driver revealed her identity by shouting and stepping into the light. 

Stiles growled. 

Derek's hand tightened where it gripped Stiles' shoulder. 

"Stay out of sight," Derek hissed. 

As he flinched from the sound of the shotgun firing, Stiles tried to nod. He looked at Kate and thought words like _predator_ and _murderer_ and _abuser_. He wanted to swipe his claws across Kate's face. He wanted to bite out her throat. He wanted---

Stiles' thoughts were interrupted when Derek shoved him back into a wall. 

"Snap out of it!" Derek whispered. 

The rage faded away. Stiles blinked up into Derek's face. 

With an apologetic dip of his head, he whispered, "Sorry. I just… I…" 

Derek eased his grip on both of Stiles' shoulders. "Are you this angry on my behalf? Or did you look her up, somehow, and find out something about her?" he asked. 

"Both," Stiles admitted. 

"How…" 

"I only know what you told me," he said. "But, I found some patterns in other places, and it's not good." 

Derek sighed. He nodded. "I can imagine," he whispered. 

He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could say anything, they both heard the sound of claws raking across a metal roof. Stiles looked up, leaning forward into Derek's body as Derek tracked the sound to its source. 

Pointing, Derek gestured towards a fire escape on the building where Monster Mayhem was running. Stiles nodded; they rushed for the metal bars of the ladder, Derek in the lead and Stiles following behind him. 

Derek didn't stay in the lead for long, though. When Stiles figured out where Monster Mayhem was going---to the building on the north side of the one they were currently exploring---he darted away from Derek and hurried along a path that would bring him closer to their target. 

He had no idea what he was doing, except that he was _hunting_ and he _needed_ to keep his prey in sight. 

The fact that Stiles was clueless was made even more clear when the rifle was fired again and Derek pounced on top of him. 

"Watch your surroundings!" Derek hissed. 

"Monster May---" 

"They can get away," Derek muttered. "We cannot get shot." 

Stiles sighed. "I know, but---" 

At the sound of another shot, Derek pulled Stiles into a roll and shuffled them both behind an air conditioning unit. Stiles scented blood, the copper taste bright on top of the night air, and he pushed at Derek until they were separated by a few inches. 

"You're hurt," Stiles whispered. "Where?" 

"I'm fine," Derek grumbled. 

"Where?" Stiles asked again. "I can smell it, but---" 

Monster Mayhem roared in the background. Maybe it was because his hunt had been interrupted or maybe because his prey wasn't an easy target, Stiles didn't know---and he didn't care. He was too busy running his hands up and down Derek's limbs, trying to find the bullet wound. 

Derek could not die---not after he was becoming Stiles' pack! 

Stiles found the bullet wound on the back of Derek's left leg, between his knee and his ankle. He sighed when Derek hissed, Stiles' fingers prodding it. There was no exit wound, as far as Stiles could tell. The bullet would have to be removed---but that would have to wait until they were safe and in a clean and well-lit area. 

"Can you walk and climb?" Stiles asked. 

"It's either that or trust you to carry me," Derek grumbled. 

The sound of a second vehicle interrupted the _awesome_ response Stiles would have made. But, a second vehicle either meant reinforcements or a disruption, and they both needed to pay attention to that. 

Stiles peered around their hiding place, making sure he was still hidden in the shadows. He saw Kate---terrifying, soulless, evil Kate---and then he saw Allison's dad---the freakin' hunters' leader---approaching her from the street. 

_"Get in,"_ Chris said, gesturing towards his vehicle. 

Kate sneered. Even though the expression wasn't directed at him, it still made Stiles' stomach lurch uncomfortably. 

_"Not even 'hello, nice to see you?'"_

_"All I've got at the moment is 'please put the assault rifle away before someone notices,'"_ Chris replied, irritation in his tone detectable even from Stiles' position. 

_"That's the brother I love,"_ Kate teased. She gestured towards the old factory and warehouse buildings. _"Chris, there were three of 'em."_

Stiles couldn't see his face clearly, but Chris sounded surprised. _"Three? Was one of them the alpha?"_

 _"I don't know, but one of them tried to kill me,"_ Kate said. 

Stiles bit back his growl. If Monster Mayhem was getting revenge for the deranged-hunter-on-werewolves action, Kate was acting a little too innocent and a little too surprised for his liking. She knew what she did; she probably still got off on all the disgusting acts of murder she'd committed. Yet, there she was, playing the victim---or as much of a victim as one could play when they were a hunter and carrying some heavy artillery. 

_"One of them is gonna lead us to the Alpha,"_ Chris said. _"He can't do that if he's dead."_

_"Well, I can't help kill any of them if one of them kills me first!"_ Kate protested. 

_"How long will it take?"_ Chris asked, pointing to the rifle in Kate's hands. 

Kate snorted. _"Give him forty-eight hours, if that."_

Stiles watched Chris nod and gesture towards his vehicle. Kate followed. As Stiles watched them retreat to safety, he puzzled over their words. 

"How long will it take?" Stiles repeated, over and over, as he tried to figure out what was meant by that question. 

"The bullet," Derek muttered. "Wolfsbane." 

Stiles choked on his next breath. "Are you… are you going to die?" 

"If it all spreads to my heart, yeah," Derek admitted. 

With a quiet curse, Stiles hauled Derek up into a standing position. He helped Derek---even though Derek swore he could walk without support---over to the fire escape and down the ladders. 

"So, first, we get home, then we get the bullet out?" Stiles asked. 

Derek nodded.

"Then what?" Stiles asked. 

"Let's focus on the first bit for now," Derek said as he draped his arm around Stiles' shoulders. "C'mon. You can help."

###

Since Stiles absolutely refused to cut off Derek's leg until he absolutely had to do it, the only other course of action was for Stiles to find another one of the bullets.

Derek had forbidden him to go anywhere near the Argents' home, but Stiles also refused to listen to him. Stiles knew there were _serious_ risks, but there were risks to inaction, too. Losing his leg would mean Derek couldn't walk---or fight---to defend himself. If he were human, he could take the time to go through rehabilitation and the fitting of a prosthetic; since he wasn't human, and since his life was in danger from at least two sides, he didn't have that kind of time. 

Also, Stiles thought Derek had lost enough already. He wanted to do it---even though "it" meant sneaking into the hunters' home and rifling through their ammunition. 

He called himself out of school, having mastered his father's voice enough for a (simulated) windy, staticky phone call in front of a couple of electronic fans, and then he tucked Derek into the guest room with a knife and his phone and one of the cordless phone extensions, just in case, along with a two litre bottle of water and some food. He locked the bedroom door, too, for good measure. He pulled on clothes he _never_ wore, grabbed a hat and glasses, switched his phone to silent, grabbed a pair of evidence gloves from his dad's police stuff, and then took off on foot towards the neighbourhood where the Argents lived. 

Stiles made it to his destination before morning traffic increased, so he had time to wander around and look for a place to perch and wait. He wanted to be close---but not too close---and he wanted to be relatively hidden. At first, he thought about crawling under their back porch and listening; on second thought, he decided to climb to the roof of the house next to theirs and perch near the chimney. It would be a pain to climb down, but he'd rather stay high as long as he could.

###

_Derek: what's happening?_  
 _Stiles: they had brekkie. C/V went to work. A at school. K is in kitchen._  
 _Derek: anything else?_  
 _Stiles: I overheard C/K talking about groceries and scouting locations after lunch. wanna see what she's up to alone. will make a move after they leave._  
 _Derek: do not go in there when she's in there alone._  
 _Stiles: 10-4, boss beta. I'll keep you posted if I hear anything juicy._  
 _Derek: Keep me posted anyway._

 _Stiles: how are you feeling?_  
_Derek: how do you think I'm feeling?_

_Derek: Terrible._  
_Stiles: I'm going to get this done. And you're going to get better. I promise._

_Stiles: Okay. K was just on the phone with my chemistry teacher. Sounds like they go way back. Creepy. Of course Mister Evil would consider Satan's gf his friend._  
_Derek: Chemistry? Harris? He's not a hunter._  
_Stiles: No. Just an sadistic jerkface._  
_Derek: They have that in common, then._  
_Stiles: Ha. Birds of a feather flock together._  
_Derek: Did they say anything useful?_  
_Stiles: Nope. She just asked if he was okay, she hadn't seen him in years and wanted to catch up---like old times. Ugh._  
_Derek: Agreed._  
_Stiles: Still. Weird that he's her first call, though._  
_Derek: maybe focus on one thing at a time._  
_Stiles: yeah… good point._

_Stiles: C/K fighting about telling Allison. K says she's ready. C says not yet, not with MM on the loose._  
_Stiles: Nice to know Scott isn't dating a hunter._  
_Derek: Yet._

_Stiles: They're gone. Fifteen minutes have passed. No signs of life in the house._  
_Derek: Did they set an alarm?_  
_Stiles: Didn't hear it. But. I will check out the back first. Look for the control box. I installed ours. Should be easy to uninstall._  
_Derek: Cameras. Look for cameras_  
_Stiles: You act like this is my first B &E._

###

After taking a wide berth around the backyard and looking for anything that could remotely be considered a security system, Stiles decided they hadn't gotten around to it yet. Stiles remembered his dad complaining that there weren't enough alarm systems in Beacon Hills---during a rash of break-ins when Stiles was fifteen, prompting John to take their own security a bit more seriously, too---and Stiles figured they still weren't coming stock with the newer subdivision houses.

Why bother spending money on something if it was rarely needed, right? 

Stiles still made sure his hood, hat, and glasses were securely in place, though, before approaching the house. 

And he still pulled on his latex gloves, too. 

They were hunters. He wasn't taking any unnecessary chances. 

Instead of trying a door, Stiles went for one of the garage windows. It was hidden by a few tall bushes and would give him enough protection from anyone driving by the property. He was able to open it with a little luck and a little force, and then he pulled himself up and in. 

The garage was terrifying. 

So many guns were in a cage, locked up and ready to be loaded. Stiles swallowed hard and looked them over, but he quickly realised that none of those guns was the one that Kate had used. The weapons in the garage were pristine. They were also in a caged off area with a lot of what looked like official paperwork. They seemed to be the weapons that the Argents sold to law enforcement. 

They were still terrifying, though. 

The door to the rest of the house seemed unarmed, so he opened it. When no bells sounded, Stiles exhaled and crept through the opening before closing it behind him. He ruled out the kitchen and living room---because they wouldn't store ammunition in areas where Allison could find it, if she wasn't yet a hunter---and made his way to the bedrooms. Stiles ignored Allison's room as soon as he found it because there was no way any of the hunters were storing their things in there; he proceeded into her parents' room and started searching every drawer and shelf and box he could find. 

When his search turned up nothing, except for other bullets and weapons, Stiles sighed and double-checked that the room was as tidy as he'd found it. He was sure there was a chance one of them might notice something was out of place, but he was hoping to be clear of the house by then. 

He stepped out into the hall and looked up and down the corridor. There was a bathroom---again, unsuitable for the storing of weaponry---and a room that looked like a guest room. He chose the latter for his next search, but rifling through the closet and dressers revealed that it was mostly empty. Kate wasn't staying there, even though she'd spent the night. 

"If I were a hunter…" Stiles muttered under his breath. 

Stiles slipped back to the main level of the house. He ended up in a corridor off of the other side of the kitchen. There was a door that had a draft slipping up underneath it; Stiles assumed it was a door to the basement, but there _was_ an alarm on that door so Stiles wasn't going to bother checking it. Whatever was in there, the Argents valued keeping it a secret, and while Stiles thought the risk might be worth it, he decided that Derek's injury was a more pressing concern. 

The next door he checked was another guest bedroom. 

There were bags on the floor. 

_Yahtzee!_

Stiles closed the door behind him and dropped to the floor. He crawled to the bag and nearly shouted in excitement when he saw the gun Kate had used in front of him. 

He had no idea what _Aconit Napel Bleu Nordique_ really meant, but _aconit_ looked like it could be _aconite_ and that was what Stiles wanted to find. He cracked open the lid and looked inside. 

There were a ton of bullets, minus the few Kate had fired. 

Stiles grinned. 

And then he heard Allison's voice, followed by Scott's voice, and he cursed under his breath. 

A quick look at his phone told him it was well past three o'clock… 

…and that Derek had been texting him for a while. 

After firing off a quick text to keep Derek calm and at home, Stiles pocketed the device and focused on sounds from inside the house. Allison and Scott were moving upstairs, away from him, and Stiles gave in to the urge to fistbump on his friend's behalf. 

Scott was getting some loving! That was huge! 

Once he was finished expressing his joy, Stiles tried to let sounds of their conversation and eventual kissing fade from his mind. He was thrilled for Scott---but he did not need a creepy voyeuristic account of their afternoon. He would hear enough about it from Scott, later, probably, if and when he decided they were back on speaking terms. 

He tried to figure out if anyone else was in the house. It _seemed_ like it was just the three of them; he felt like he still had a chance to get out of there without being noticed. 

Stiles took two of the bullets and put one in his pocket and the other inside his sneaker. Then, he did his best to put the bag and its contents back the way he had found it all when he'd first entered the room. 

Part of him wanted to continue exploring, to try to uncover more of the hunters' secrets while he had the chance, but he knew he had to get to Derek and help him heal. He hated that he'd had to leave Derek at home, in pain and under the effects of wolfsbane; he had the power to stop it and he could if he hurried home. 

He walked out of the guest room and headed towards the kitchen. Heart pounding, he listened for signs of movement, of being discovered, as he crept back to his exit. He made it into the garage and reopened the window, but before he could leap through it he heard a car pulling into the driveway as Allison and Scott bounded towards him, talking quietly to each other. 

After shutting the window, Stiles ducked behind a couple boxes and curled up as tightly as he could. He was pretty sure Scott and Allison wouldn't notice him; they were pretty wrapped up in each other. But, Chris and Kate would find him if they suspected they had an intruder in their midst. Stiles wanted to get out of the house before they came to that conclusion and started looking for him. 

He sent a text to Derek--- _Found it. Kinda stuck in their garage right now. But they haven't found me yet. Will be home as soon as I can sneak away!_ \---and listened as Chris approached, catching Scott and Allison hiding on the other side of another vehicle. 

Thankfully, he was roping them into helping bring in the groceries. As soon as the door to the house closed, with Chris, Allison, and Scott on the other side of it, Stiles leapt from his hiding place and to the window. He had it open and was vaulting through it before anyone else could interrupt his escape. 

Stiles hesitated when he rounded the house and looked for his path to safety. The back of the house looked out over a big, empty yard. The kitchen had several windows pointed in that direction. Unloading groceries would put all four potential witnesses in a place where they could see him, and Stiles didn't want to risk Scott seeing him flee the Argents' backyard at warp werewolf speed. 

So, he lurked in the shadows of the house and crawled around to its other side. The fence was lower there; if the coast was clear, he could vault it and run straight down the street. 

He waited. He listened to Chris tell Scott to get on his bike and go home; he braced himself for the jump. 

And then, he heard Kate's voice. 

_"Oh, come on, Chris. Really? They were making out in the garage, not shooting amateur porn,"_ she said. _"You, with the adorable brown eyes, drop your bike. You're staying for dinner."_

Her tone, mostly casual but with a touch of her predatory nature, made Stiles want to roar. Any other time, he might have jumped to Scott's rescue, but he had to save his packmate first. He promised himself he'd save Scott from Kate's clutches the next time an opportunity presented itself. 

As soon as the front door closed and the only sounds were of the Argents and Scott inside the house, Stiles jumped over the fence and rushed down the street.

#####

When Derek heard Stiles rush through the front door, barely pausing to lock it behind him, he pushed himself up into a sitting position to ready himself for Stiles' entrance into the guest room.

It barely took Stiles half a minute to appear, barging in and breaking the doorknob in the process. He grinned through his ridiculous disguise and held up two bullets in his hand. 

"Were you seen?" Derek asked. 

"I don't think so," Stiles replied. He shut the door and approached the bed. "I took the long way, through a couple construction sites, just in case." 

Stiles sighed and flopped down next to Derek. After tugging off his hat and glasses, he said, "What now?" 

"I need a lighter," Derek said. 

With a nod, Stiles reached into his jeans and pulled out a small, red lighter. 

"Always carried one. And a knife. Just in case," Stiles explained. 

That didn't surprise Derek, but it did impress him. Stiles presented himself like a one-dimensional spaz, but there was a lot more to him. The more time they spent together, the more Derek was learning how much there was under Stiles' surface. Stiles _would_ make an exceptional wolf, and Derek hoped he would be able to witness Stiles growing into his new strengths and abilities. 

He took the lighter and one of the bullets. Then, he looked around the room. He needed a table or tray. He also needed to get out of the jogging pants he'd put on to hide the bandages from the Sheriff, in case he returned home earlier than expected. 

"What?" Stiles asked. 

"I… I have to burn the contents of the bullet and put the ashes in the wound," Derek said. 

"Need help?"

Holding up his clawed hands, Derek nodded. He lost control of his shifting between man and werewolf a couple of hours before Stiles' return. 

Stiles smiled and walked over to the dresser. He took the hair brush, jewelry box, and framed photograph off of the tray that supported them and brought it over to the bed. As he did that, Derek adjusted his position so his back was against the headboard and he could lift his leg into a bent position. They'd cleaned out the bullet debris, but the wound was still there, seeping with wolfsbane rot, and he needed to get into a good position so he could rub the ashes into them. 

"You do the burning," Stiles suggested. "Just let me…" 

He pulled up the leg of Derek's sweatpants and brushed his fingers over a particularly blackened vein. 

"Ugh," Stiles said as he grimaced. 

"Take the bandage off," Derek instructed. "You can see better that me, I'll need you to put the ash in it." 

"How far in?" 

"As far as you can," Derek said. 

Stiles grimaced again. "I have to put my fingers in the hole?" 

"How else will it get into my bloodstream?" 

"Magic?" Stiles suggested. 

Derek rolled his eyes. "You dug out the bullet pieces with tweezers, but you can't stick your finger---"

"In your hole?" Stiles asked before sniggering at what Derek suspected was his choice of words. 

"Good grief," Derek muttered. 

Stiles grinned. 

Before any other jokes could be made, Derek used his claws to pierce the bullet's casing. He tapped the wolfsbane powder onto the tray. As he prepared, Stiles did his own preparation so that by the time Derek had poured out the blue-grey powder, Stiles had unwrapped the bandages from Derek's leg. 

"Ready when you are," Stiles murmured. 

Derek nodded and picked up the lighter. It took a bit of wiggling around, but eventually he found a grip that would let him hold and light the device in spite of his claws. He brought the flame down to the powder; he blinked when it _whooshed_ but he breathed a sigh of relief when the smoking pile of ashes resembled the one Laura had set for him when teaching him what to do if infected. 

"Here," Derek said, passing Stiles the tray. 

He almost smiled when Stiles' jaw clenched and his brow furrowed. Stiles was a perfect picture of grim determination, as he scooped up some of the ashes and brought them over to Derek's lower leg. He hesitated for a moment; before Derek could tell him to get on with it, Stiles was pressing his fingers into the hole. 

Derek growled, but he remained still. It _hurt._ he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Wolfing out completely would do neither of them any good. 

Stiles pressed more ash into Derek's bullet wound. He ignored Derek's reactionary snarl and continued to work, scooping ash and rubbing it into the hole in his flesh. 

He didn't know if it were working at first; it was difficult to discern under the pain of soot and fingers in an open wound. But, eventually, the ache in his leg and along what felt like every single nerve in his body began to recede. He could feel his claws and fangs retract completely for the first time since the magical rot had taken hold of his body. 

When Derek opened his eyes, he looked at Stiles. Stiles was grinning, his shoulders slumped in relief; he was still holding both sides of Derek's lower leg. 

"Feel better?" Stiles asked. 

Derek nodded. 

"You smell better." 

Derek snorted. "That's why I started the slow cooker after you left. Hoped the stew would hide the smell from your dad if it got worse," he said, sitting up and pulling his leg out of Stiles' gentle hold. 

"Ohhh. Smart." 

"You didn't even notice, did you?" 

With a small smile still on his face, Stiles shrugged. "I had other things on my mind," he admitted. He watched Derek as he stood up and stretched his muscles; then he flopped back onto the bed. "This was a stressful day. Man. Don't get shot again." 

"I'll try not to," Derek said. 

"Is this the only way to cure wolfsbane poisoning?" Stiles asked. 

Derek shook his head. "No, but the other option is burning it out with fire, usually from a blowtorch," he explained. 

He'd known it could be removed that way, and they could have done it if Stiles' squeamishness would allow it, but he'd been afraid of the damage the fire could do to his muscles. It would've been better than amputation, but not much better. 

"Did you hear or see anything valuable?" Derek asked. 

Stiles snorted. "You mean, besides the bullet and an army's worth of weaponry?" 

"Yes." 

"Um… Allison was a nationally ranked archer at one point, which is terrifying, and… Kate took a bedroom on the ground floor instead of upstairs with the other bedrooms," Stiles said. He sighed. "They had an alarm and lock on their basement door. But, I never got a chance to peek in any windows." 

"We can go back and look at that later," Derek said. "A night when they're asleep. Or out hunting us." 

Stiles nodded. "The full moon, maybe?" he suggested. "I mean, they'd assume we are out in the woods. But if you can hold it together and I can hold it together… maybe we can use that time wisely." 

"Assuming Allison's mother isn't keeping watch around the house, yeah," Derek said. 

"Who would be dumb enough to attack a hunter's house?" Stiles asked. 

"The alpha, maybe," Derek reasoned. 

Stiles' hesitation made Derek pause and reevaluate his outlook on their situation. The rogue had acted rashly, in some ways, but they were attacking people who didn't seem random. An arson investigator and Kate Argent were hardly proof of the rogue's intentions; an arson investigator and Kate Argent weren't just _anyone_ , though, at the same time. 

"They went after Laura for her alpha powers," Stiles said, his voice quiet. "I was probably a mistake. A wrong place, wrong time sort of thing. But---" 

"They weren't random people," Derek interrupted. "They may not be the right people, for whatever revenge they're seeking, but they're still not random." 

"Random would've been weirder," Stiles said. 

Derek nodded. "I get it," he muttered. He sighed and rubbed a hand over the top of his head. Stiles seemed tense, still, despite relaxing by several degrees. He wondered what was weighing on Stiles' mind; he knew enough to know he couldn't force it until Stiles was ready to talk. "Why don't you check on dinner and I'll clean up a bit," he suggested. "Then we can talk about whatever else is on your mind." 

With a thin smile, Stiles nodded and stood up from the bed. He tapped the door frame twice before opening the door and slipping out into the hall. As soon as he was completely alone, with Stiles in the kitchen stirring the stew, Derek sighed and rubbed his head again. He knew he wasn't going to enjoy their conversation---he could feel it all the way to his bones, the way he'd felt the wolfsbane poison---but he knew they had to discuss whatever was in Stiles' head before they moved past the day's events and planned for the future.

#####

When John finally went to bed, none the wiser about Stiles' day and Derek's injury and full of a delicious stew he praised several times throughout the meal, Stiles moved into the living room and waited until Derek followed him inside comfortable space.

Stiles felt his stomach tighten as he looked into Derek's face. He was afraid of what his information would do to Derek---would it upset him? would it remind him of damage done to him or to someone else in his family?---but he knew he couldn't keep his research to himself any longer, not with Kate so close to Scott and to the rest of Beacon Hills' population. 

"What is it?" Derek asked. 

"I… I tried to look online, to figure out anything I could about Kate," he said. 

Derek nodded. "I know. You told me last night." 

"So, at first, there was nothing, but then I found her LinkedIn page," Stiles said. When Derek nodded again, Stiles continued talking. "It wasn't like she put 'Evil Werewolf Hunter Extraordinaire' on her resumé, but before she became the executive in charge of overseas sales or however it was worded, for the family business, she was a substitute teacher. And she provided all the dates. I mean, why wouldn't she? This is her normal world persona, y'know?" 

"Right." 

Stiles swallowed. "The date where she left town corresponded---close enough, anyway---to the date of the fire," he said. "But, there were other places, and other incidents in the news. It was enough to find a bit of a pattern. It isn't enough to go to Dad, but it's enough… to make sense to us." 

Derek frowned and sat down on the sofa next to Stiles. Stiles wanted to reach out and touch him---so many of his newer instincts were about physical contact---but he didn't know how Derek would react. Derek's feelings were more important than Stiles' instincts.

"What do you think she did?" Derek asked. 

Stiles took in a long, slow breath before sharing his findings. 

"She moved to the area around Fresno, I guess? First, anyway. She was substituting at a bunch of different schools in that general location," Stiles said. "But around the time when she moved on, there was a small gated community nearby that had a water contamination issue. Seven people died, but they don't know why.

"And then, she moved to near Bakersfield. At first there was nothing… and I didn't put it all together at first, because it was so slow to start. One of the prominent families in the area---" 

"The Lindon Pack?" Derek asked. 

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, how did you know?" 

"I remember a few of the pack families in the state," Derek replied. "Mom met with them regularly enough." 

Stiles nodded; it made sense that they networked and pooled resources. 

"Yeah, so I guess Eleanor was the alpha?" Stiles asked. At Derek's nod, he said, "Okay. Makes sense. She made public accusations against the school. Something about abuse and misconduct towards a couple of the students. The school board dragged their feet, but eventually they did an investigation in conjunction with the police. Nothing was found. When Kate left, there was a fire at the Lindon estate. Only two people died. It was ruled an accident." 

"Who?" Derek asked. 

"The newspaper only said they were guests of the Lindon family," Stiles answered. "But. Her son---" 

"Jacob?"

Stiles nodded. "Yes. He… ah. He killed himself. Later." 

Derek growled. "How?" 

"Aconite poisoning," Stiles whispered. "That was the official cause of death, according to the newspaper article." 

Stiles resisted the urge to touch Derek up until Derek dropped his head into his hands and took deep, shuddering breaths. He put his hand on Derek's back, rubbing in long, slow strokes. Even though it killed him, he waited. 

"I didn't know him," Derek said. His voice was muffled by his hands so Stiles had to strain to understand what he was saying. "Not… not well. He came to Beacon Hills with his family once. Mom and Eleanor were updating their agreement between the two packs. I was… ten. I think. Jacob was seven. He was so annoying, in that way younger kids you're forced to spend time with can be." 

"It's not your fault," Stiles whispered. "Kate---" 

"It could be my fault," Derek interrupted. 

"How?" Stiles asked. "You didn't know what she'd do to him and his family." 

Derek lifted his head. He didn't look at Stiles, keeping his eyes focused on the coffee table in front of them. Stiles could see anger and sadness in his eyes, along with some sort of darkness; he could feel Derek's whole body tense underneath his hand. 

"What if I knew?" Derek asked. 

"How---oh." 

"Yeah." 

At the thought of Kate hurting Derek the way Jacob had probably been hurt, Stiles' pulse quickened as his heart seemed to _burn_ inside his chest. Derek sniffed and moved to pull away---but before he could, Stiles inched closer and slid his arm around Derek's shoulders. 

"I'm not mad at you," Stiles promised. "I'm furious with her. You don't need to tell me anything. You don't have to explain." 

"I'd rather you know than guess," Derek muttered. 

"I can wait. However long it takes." 

With a long, low sigh tinged with a bit of a moan, Derek rubbed his hands over his face again. Stiles waited silently, giving Derek the time to pull himself together enough to tell Stiles whatever Derek felt like he had to say. 

"I… if you want to find another pack after this, I'll understand," Derek said. 

"Won't happen." 

"But, you don't know---" 

"It won't change anything." 

Derek frowned when he lifted his head. "If you do, please stay long enough to help me deal with this alpha," he said. "It's all I ask." 

"Derek, you're my pack." 

"The truth changes things," Derek said. 

"Not this truth and not our thing," Stiles said. 

He knew, based on his assumptions and guesses, that there wasn't anything that Derek could tell him that would change his mind on wanting to be pack with Derek. The bond was growing between them. Nothing Derek could say could break that bond between them. 

"I guess we'll see," Derek said, smirking a small, sad smile. The expression faded and Derek looked back down at his knees. "I'd been dating someone. In school. She was… annoying and challenging and cute and… everything I thought I wanted. Not enough to be considered a mate, I don't think, now that I look back, but enough for me then." 

"She liked you back?" Stiles asked. 

"A lot," Derek admitted. "She overlooked a lot of dumb things I said and did. She… made me feel like I was a real person. I hated lying to her, but it was necessary. 

"Peter thought we should break up. He didn't see the point to being with her---a human. I wasn't next in line to be alpha, but he didn't care. He didn't think one of the Hales should be mixing with humans." 

"Sounds like a swell guy," Stiles commented. 

Derek snorted. "He was probably my closest friend. Younger than Mom, closer to me and Laura in age… he was the only other person I could be honest with," Derek said. 

"But he wanted you to dump the girl you liked," Stiles argued. 

"Well. He thought there was a solution," Derek said. "Alphas were in from out of town… the Argents and their friends were becoming more aggressive. A beta from another pack had killed a hunter. The hunters had chased the wolf into our territory. Everyone gathered. Some wanted a truce with the hunters, and I think that was why they were there.

"His solution was simple: get one of the other alphas to bite Pa-Paige. I hated the idea. I didn't want Paige in our world. I liked that she was separate, that she wasn't loyal to my mother or anyone else," Derek explained. "But, he was convincing. Maybe too convincing. There was probably something he wanted out of the deal." 

"Like… power?" 

"Or a side alliance," Derek suggested. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about it. Since everything." 

Stiles nodded. He dwelled on past events a lot; he understood puzzling over things long after they happened. 

"Anyway. Moral of the story, one of the alphas bit her and it didn't take," he said, moving along with the facts he seemed to think Stiles needed to know. "The bite either kills you or turns you, as far as I know. And with Paige… it didn't turn her." 

"God, Derek…" 

Derek nodded and rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin. When he spoke again, his voice was less steady than it had been before. "I took her out into the woods, into a hiding place we'd used before, and stayed with her. I couldn't take her to the hospital. I didn't know what else to do," he admitted. "And she seemed to know she was dying. She… she asked me…" 

"To kill her?" 

He nodded again. "Yeah. I did. It's why my eyes are blue… something in us changes when we take a life. I don't know if it's remorse or just the act itself. But. Whatever it is… that's why you and I are different that way." 

"What did your mom say?" Stiles asked. 

"She helped as much as she could," Derek replied. "She had Paige's body moved into the woods, away from the pack territory, to make it look like an actual wild animal attack. She tried to help me, too, but…" 

"You were grieving," Stiles said. 

He tightened his hold on Derek's shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze. He remembered how he felt after his mother died; he remembered how little his father could do to _really_ help him, at least until he was ready to heal and accept John's help. Stiles assumed it would be the same for Derek, in some way. 

"I didn't want help. It was my fault. I shut out Peter and my parents. My siblings could sometimes get me out of my shell… but I was miserable," Derek mumbled. "I spent a lot of time at the library, away from them. I didn't want to wreck anything else for them." 

Stiles nodded. "I get it. I avoided Scott and Dad… I hid a lot. After Mom." 

After a shudder that seemed to travel through his whole body and into Stiles' form, Derek resumed speaking. "Kate was a student teacher at first. She was supervised… safe," he said. "She knew who I was, like I knew who she was. Hales and Argents. The last name would give us away." 

"She didn't attack you or anything?" 

Derek snorted and shook his head. "No. If anything, she was overly polite. I thought she'd ignore me, at least, but she always made an effort to get along with me," he replied. "When she was substituting, on the recommendation of her supervising teacher, that… well. At first there were group tutoring sessions. But, then, she started meeting me on my own. I liked reading. She encouraged it, making it sound like extra credit work---but it never felt like work. We talked about the books we read. She gave me more challenging books and praised me." 

Stiles' guts clenched. "She was grooming you." 

"I recognise the signs now," Derek said, as he nodded his head in agreement. "At the time, I thought… she was someone who knew who I was, and didn't care, despite our families' histories, and she seemed to be helping me. She talked about colleges and what I could study… for the first time since Paige…" 

"You were thinking about the future." 

"Yeah. Dumb, huh?" 

Stiles frowned. "No, not at all," he said. "I mean, you were hurt. And she helped with your pain---or at least distracted you from it. I get why you looked past her family name. Plus, she's well put together. I understand enough about people to get that." 

Derek's brow furrowed as he stared at Stiles. He expected Derek to ask him a question, but then Derek turned back to look at the coffee table. Stiles knew more of the story was coming. 

"We only met in secret," Derek said. "She didn't want her family to know. I wasn't sure about being more physical with her… she was rough, she laughed at the wrong things… but she seemed to want me when I thought no one ever would---or should. And I didn't want my family to know, either. At first, it was because I didn't want them disappointed in me for getting involved with a human _and_ a hunter. But, before the end, I wasn't comfortable with any of it and I didn't want them to know until I could make sense of it. 

"She was smart. She never asked questions about specific dates or times, not right away. She bided her time, gathering whatever information I gave her, unknowingly. Like, when I would tell her my parents were out of town and Peter and his fiancée were watching us, when explaining that I could go meet her one night… or when I had to stay home because the couples with little kids were visiting, and I had to babysit." 

Stiles nodded. "She was putting together patterns, trying to figure out when the best time to attack would be." 

"Yeah," Derek whispered. 

"But, you and Laura---" 

"We only made it out because Kate wanted me to meet her one morning, before school," he said. "I wasn't close to any of my teammates or classmates, not really. Somehow, Mom figured out that I was in trouble, and she sent Laura to get me." He lifted his head and looked at Stiles. "Laura caught me waiting for Kate in the classroom. And Kate… she never showed up because she was too busy trapping my family in the house before setting it on fire. She expected me to know it was her doing." 

Before Derek could say anything else, Stiles wrapped Derek up in a big hug. He rubbed his cheek against Derek's shoulder, applying his scent as much as offering comfort; he would not let Derek down for sharing that information with him. He knew how difficult it was to admit to mistakes and to darkness, and he did not want Derek to suffer more than he already had been. 

"So, when you told me I had no idea about the lengths Kate would go to…" 

"I know what she'd do," Derek whispered. "And, maybe, if I'd said something… maybe I could have spared Jacob---" 

"No, no, no," Stiles interrupted, punctuating his interruption with a squeeze. "It is not your fault. Kate would have done that whether or not you said anything. Maybe not the same way, but she still would have attacked the Lindon family in her evil, underhanded style." 

"Stiles…" 

"Nope. The actions of a demonic bitch are not your responsibility," Stiles insisted. "You can grieve, for yourself and for the others she's hurt. You can be angry at her for not following the code. But, you cannot take responsibility for what she's done. Their blood isn't on your hands." 

In an act that surprised Stiles more than he'd ever admit, Derek turned and wrapped his arms around Stiles' body to complete their embrace. Stiles hummed quietly and rubbed Derek's back with his hands. 

"We are still pack," Stiles whispered. "This changes _nothing."_

As if he sensed the truth in Stiles' words and was touched by it, Derek shivered as he tucked his face into Stiles' shoulder.

#####

John sat on the edge of his bed, Stiles' words ringing in his ears.

 _"Nope. The actions of a demonic bitch are not your responsibility. You can grieve, for yourself and for the others she's hurt. You can be angry at her for not following the code. But, you cannot take responsibility for what she's done. Their blood isn't on your hands."_

What else he'd heard of their conversation echoed in his mind along with Stiles' last words. He had only heard Derek sound that way when he was younger, when John brought Derek and Laura to the station after they rushed up to their family home. The devastation and pain in his voice, despite it lowering by several degrees, was exactly the same. A mixture of fury and sorrow, chipping away at his strength until he sounded more hollow than anything else. 

There was much more going on than John knew. Stiles seemed far more aware of the situation, which both impressed and unnerved him. 

Stiles and Derek seemed much closer than he (and Scott) suspected, too, but that didn't bother him as much as it might have without overhearing their conversation. Derek was older, yes, but only by a few years, and it was clear he needed some sort of familial relationship. 

John was also certain that Derek needed therapy. 

He pulled a notebook from his bedside table---the one he used for his more outlandish theories and notes---and flipped through the pages. It was one of those coiled books, thick enough to last for years. At the beginning, there were remarks about strange crimes and stranger people, like the time the local herbs-and-crystals shop had been robbed and the girl who'd been in hysterics because a specific stone had been stolen, and after a few more pages, he found his thoughts about the fire at the Hales' home. 

_Both kids are grieving. Laura seems convinced we won't figure it out. She's angry. Derek seems to be in shock. Waiting for the arson investigation. Black dust everywhere._

_Arson investigator (Myers) says it's an accident. No one in town reported a disagreement or bad blood with the Hales. Not sure if there is motive._

_Black dust turned out to be Rowan ash. Hardly surprising in a forest or in a house._

As he looked at his notes, he sighed and realised he'd been very wrong about the fire. There may not be proof, but it was clear to him (since eavesdropping) that Derek knew who was responsible. 

John didn't understand why Derek trusted Stiles to tell him such a heavy, painful truth. He understood Stiles' behaviour---Stiles was a bright boy who knew the difference between guilt and fault---but he did not understand what convinced Derek that Stiles, of all people, could be trusted with his burden. 

He was glad for Derek's trust in Stiles, though. Derek needed someone in his corner. 

Derek had both John and Stiles in his corner, now. 

John flipped to the first blank page in his notebook and wrote down an abbreviated summary of what he'd overheard--- _Derek knows someone named Kate is responsible for the fire. Sounds like Kate is someone who had an unhealthy interest in Derek. Argent involvement? Derek made them sound like Hatfields and McCoys. Possible other victim: Jacob Lindon and family._ \---and then he quietly tucked the book and his pen into his bedside table. 

After turning off the lamp near his bed, he slipped back under the quilt. He had a lot of work to do, some on the recent animal killings and some on the old unsolved case of the fire that destroyed the Hale Family's quiet existence in Beacon Hills.


End file.
